[IC] Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

[vietmyke]

Galahad Caradoc

---

What Galahad was expecting to have been a relatively slow and relaxing day- as they had proclaimed they needed, was quickly turning out to be not nearly as slow nor relaxing as promised. He hadn't expected Izayoi to have been spotted so quickly, and yet somehow she was. Furthermore, he wasn't expecting- though perhaps not as surprised- that a messenger from his home had appeared, bidding them to all visit his family home. He sighed as he watched the courier scurry off, sending slightly furtive glances over his shoulder as he returned home. Elaine's appearance didn't make Galahad feel much better either- she looked like she'd been in a rather one sided fight. Which also likely did little to improve his appearances to his own home.

"You might be slightly surprised to find that I agree with you," Galahad sighed in response to Izayoi, "For some reason, the thought of the Limbtaker- former or otherwise- being so close in proximity to my family does not exactly fill me with a sense of joy."

Galahad sighed, pressing fingers against his furrowed brow. "Unfortunately, my father's requests are never quite voluntary. In all honesty, it would likely be safer for all parties involved, if all of us were to join my father at the family estate."

[Ithradine]

Mentions: N/A

"I'll be sure to try it." Arton replied, not entirely sure what this flan looked or tasted like. The name itself was not all that appealing to him but he trusted Galahad's word. He courteously held the door for the entirety of their party but a man approached him just Arton was about to enter himself. The expression that appeared on Arton's face made it clear that it was someone he recognized. They exchanged a brief conversation, the words muffled between the noise from the street. The man soon left and Arton turned to the rest of the party inside the cafe "I'll..have to try the coffee some other time. See you at the lodge." He then walked after the elderly man with a brisk pace.

---

Arton arrived at the lodge just in time to see someone running off in the opposite direction. His ears caught the tail-end of Eliane speaking as he rejoined the party. The brief look of confusion faded as he surmised what must have happened "I can't imagine this is going to be pleasant..." His voice sounded drained and devoid of the usual enthusiasm he had. The conversation with Cyth had taken a greater toll on his mentality than he hoped it would. It seemed Skael was facing an increase in civil unrest combined with nobles disputing a patch of contested land.

[Psyker Landshark]

Ranbu no Izayoi

While House Caradoc's seat of power wasn't particularly far from the dragoon's lodge, it was still a decently long walk, made slower by the rush of people going to and fro in the early evening of inner Midgar. Izayoi sniffed slightly at the mix of scents in the air: industrial smoke, alcohol fumes, and cooking fires all assaulting her nostrils as they passed several taverns and pubs in the streets. There were even some people in Osprean dress roaming the streets, explaining the relative lack of stares her garb had gotten. Most likely peoples from the territories Edren had annexed, trying to make the best of their new lot. As much as she despised Edren's land grab, Izayoi couldn't fault those conquered for being victims in it all.

The reminder of the war certainly didn't help her mood as they finally approached the gates of the Caradoc estate. The sight of Galahad had the guards wave them through with little fuss, though they recoiled upon seeing her. Likely forewarned, then. Irritating. In contrast to the industrial nightmare that comprised the rest of Midgar, House Caradoc's manor was far more akin to what someone would see in Balmung or any other noble estate in the Edrenian heartland, if more fortified than the average keep.

Awaiting them in the manor's entry hall was the lord Caradoc himself, flanked by his entire bodyguard retinue and holding a sheathed sword. As the Kirins faced down the welcoming party, Izayoi removed her hat, staring her old nemesis right in the eyes.

"Artorias Caradoc." She stated flatly, the flash of her sheathed sword beneath her cloak already causing several of the bodyguards to stiffen and tense. "Do you always greet your own flesh and blood with men-at-arms? You Edrenians certainly have quite the queer habit."

The stern visage of Galahad's father narrowed his eyes at the remark.

"You live. I had thought the reports this afternoon to be mere hearsay, exaggerated to be hysteria." His grip around his scabbard tightened for a moment, but he mastered himself and looked to his son.

"Galahad. I send you to answer His Majesty's call, and you return with the Emperor's Demon in tow. As well as..." His gaze swept across the entire group.

"A mage, a nameless sword, and the most transparent infiltration attempt from Skael in decades."

"Explain."

[vietmyke]

Galahad Caradoc

---

Galahad dreaded every step he took towards his childhood home, not just because he wasn't looking forward to being home so soon, but also due to the company he kept. His family guards for their part, reacted more or less as he expected-at least no weapons were drawn, though one could never really sheath lances. The Caradoc Manor was a large home of classic Edrenian architecture, built from slabs of white marble and gilded with the Caradoc family crest. For all of its grandeur, the home felt as cold and imposing as it always did as Galahad made his way up the steps of the building. At the front door, a man at arms silently welcomed them, holding the door open for they entered. The interior of the manor was just as opulent as the outside. Fine carpeting stretched across the cold marble floor, its high walls and ceilings adorned with gold and jewel encrusted weapons and artwork. The ceiling itself was a tapestry of the Caradoc family line, and its accomplishments, starting generations back, endless depictions of gallant Caradoc men bearing pristine silver and blue plate.

Underneath a mural of his own likeness stood his father, Artorias Caradoc. None to pleased to see what Galahad had brought back home. Galahad couldn't help but sigh as his father demanded an explanation.

"It appears as though his Majesty's call also extended to mages, spies, and swords both named and nameless." Galahad replied curtly. The two men stood across from one another, a sourcless tension between the two, almost palpable enough to snap like a band. " Leonhart has instructed me to find and end the Blight. Our groups were picked by the king himself. If this troubles you, I advise you to take it up with your nephew."

"Insolence." The older Caradoc practically spat, though whether it was directed towards Galahad or the king himself was not entirely clear. "To bring the Demon to your own home, to stand in front of her with your back exposed. Galahad, I know not if you are a fool, or merely foolish. How bleak things have become."

"The demon, the spy, the sword and the mage helped me save the king from an attempt on his life." Galahad reminded him, "Without them, Edren's future would be considerably more bleak."

"Regardless. I'm sure you'll be thrilled to know that we do not plan to stay for long. Once we resupply, we'll be off." Galahad stated curtly, though the sound of the door opening behind his father stopped any further reply.

"Surely you don't plan to leave without even having dinner with your family?" in almost stark contrast to the cold callousness of the two Caradoc men, this voice was considerably warmer, as his mother stepped out to greet the Kirins.

[Click This]

---

Éliane innocently let the comments wash over her. She noticed that her earlier enthusiasm had probably inconvenienced her host slightly, but he could put up with a little trouble for the greater good. The greater good of interrupting café time, that was. She felt satisfied nonetheless, although the welcoming party at House Caradoc was something else entirely. Being a member of the Household Guards, Éliane was intimately familiar with customs, etiquette, and all the pomp and circumstance that came with nobles.

This was very formal, but formal in the way that showed obvious displeasure at one’s guests.

The Skalian girl ignored the byplay between Artorias Caradoc and Izayoi, but she still noted it nonetheless. When the disapproving attention of Galahad’s father turned to the rest of the party, and then her, she scrunched her face in feighned, innocent confusion.

“Huh? Moi? When someone dresses up like this, it’s a diplomatic mission,” replied Éliane, wagging her finger. She noticeable did not actively refute his point, and made a formal bow instead.

“Éliane Laruelle, of the Household Guards. At your service.”

[Ithradine]

Mentions: N/A

Arton's mind was on his former master's words as they journeyed to their companion's home. It had already been some years ago when he set out on his own, to experience the world and understand the struggle of lands foreign to him. There was never an intent to return to his birthplace and the promise made to Cyth was an empty one. There was nothing left for him. No gilded estate of marble. No family arms passed down from generation to the next. No inheritance of any kind. Cyth had imposed it was his responsibility and duty to return. The instability in Skael had risen drastically in the past few months and from Cyth's words it was clear it was soon coming to boiling point.

The wandering swordsman did his best to straighten his back and present himself somewhat properly. His armor lacked the polish and art of the guards around him, but at least he managed to get it clean before they had set out. The more the walked through the estate the more Arton began to understand more of Galahad's upbringing and his own responsibility.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of the air between the two Caradocs, this was unlikely the first time Galahad had butted heads with his father. Arton remained silent, knowing it was not his place to speak out of turn. However, the vitriol in which Artorias spoke of Izayoi had his muscles tense. How little he knew of their history. Arton was surprised in Galahad's bold riposte, bending the decree of the king against his father's wishes. It seemed politics took place even amidst family for those in higher standing.

Arton simply nodded when Galahad had referenced him. He had fully expected this reunion to blow up in smoke when a older woman emerged from behind the commotion. It was not hard to assume her relationship to the two Caradocs. As uncomfortable as it may be, a free meal would be a shame to pass up and his stomach guided his next words "What do you say, Gal?" There was a slight hopeful tone in his voice. Uncomfortable or not, Arton would do anything to share one meal with his parents.

[Psyker Landshark]

Ranbu no Izayoi

Izayoi allowed Galahad a moment with his father, but it seemed the effort was wasted. Evidently, House Caradoc had a severe difference in opinion between its patriarch and heir. Unexpected, but not exactly surprising. She hadn't exactly connected the dots herself between Galahad and Artorias for some time, to her shame. Other matters had preoccupied Izayoi's mind ever since Balmung Castle, and she had been trying her best to forget the war for half a decade.

What came as more of a surprise, though, was Galahad's mother. Far less cold than Artorias, though it remained to see how long that would last. Izayoi deliberately turned her back on the scene, as if making to leave.

"We will be returning to the lodge then, dragoon." Izayoi said before the Caradoc matron seemingly waved the topic aside with a scoff.

"Oh, none of that, my dear. The offer extends to all of my son's companions as well, you know."

Both Izayoi and Artorias alike stared incredulously at her for this. Did...she not know whom she was speaking to? The two former enemies held a look between them of shared incomprehension before sense took over and it devolved to mutual glaring.

"So that you can poison my plate?" Izayoi accused, folding her arms together. "Sensible. I would do the same in your place."

"Psh, hardly. Were my husband or my boy to want you dead, they would do so from the front, like proud Caradoc men. Isn't that right?"

For a moment, Izayoi could only feel contempt for the utter lack of care the woman was showing. To be so relaxed, in front of a sworn enemy of one's own country. And yet...wasn't that sort of carefree housewife the woman she'd been trying to be until just six months ago? Taking that into account, her expression softened just a bit. Besides, judging from the lord Caradoc's expression, he hadn't intended on Izayoi's attendance, likely ruling out a preplanned poisoning attempt. And even if he still tried...well, there was always the ignominy of resorting to breaking guest right in order to kill her. Even high nobility weren't immune to social repercussions.

With a sigh, Izayoi unclipped her cloak and followed after their hosts.

___

Dinner was a far more formal affair than the banquet at Balmung. Ironic how similarly meals with the nobility went among both Edrenians and Ospreans. Multiple small courses brought one by one, with the only discourse being catching the lord Artorias up on what had happened but two nights ago. His reaction at the news suggested some sort of displeasure, but he didn't voice such. Judging by what could be inferred, no doubt he wouldn't speak ill of his own liege despite the fact that he evidently disagreed with Leonhardt's decision.

As the soup was cleared off the table by the servants to make way for the fish course, Artorias steepled his hands in front of his chin, looking at each of the party in turn.

"You whom travel with my son: I would know more of why you would embark on such a quest. Is it gold? Fame? Ideals?" The latter was spoken in a highly doubtful tone.

"Valheim occupies my homeland. In light of that, I set aside all other debts of blood. Your people invaded mine just the same as they did, but at least Edren did not stay after their victory and slowly choke the life out of Osprey." Izayoi said flatly. "Furthermore, the Blight most likely originates with them." She refused to elaborate, already having spoken more to Lord Caradoc without insults than she cared to. Still, if someone else wished to expand on that, she wasn't going to stop them.

[Ithradine]

Mentions: N/A

There was a strong, subconscious pull on Arton's mind towards the idea of a dinner between family and friends. Despite his friendliness, Arton was a loner for the majority of life. There was people that popped briefly into his life but none who had established a strong connection to. He yearned for camaraderie but the potential loss of it kept him at arms length. The power in the differing views of the two Caradocs did not come across as irreconcilable issues but what he saw as familial banter.

"See? No reason to turn down a hearty, warm meal, right?" Arton exclaimed after Gal's mother.

---

Arton started off the small feast eating as what would be expected of a common adventurer. After a glare from Artorias, Arton seamlessly transitioned to the proper decorum expected of such a dinner. The last impression he wanted to give Gal's parents was that he was some incompetent barbarian. As trays of various seafood arrived, he listened to Artorias's inquiry and Izayoi's reply. It was equal parts fascinating and terrifying to hear how personal their rivalry and animosity went.

"I have seen how the Blight has ravaged the war-torn outer territories of the kingdom. Arton took a short sip of his drink "Each week was tougher than the last. It was clear that nothing I did was going to stop it. Striking out on this quest, I believe, will save more people that I could on my own." It was wistful, naive thinking to believe that everything would go smoothly and all work out in the end, but he had to believe it "Hopefully, we'll find the answers as to why Valheim invaded just as the Blight dugs its claws in." His answer was not the whole truth of it. Arton wanted his life to mean something in the end, perhaps a bit too willing to sacrifice his life for an end to this calamity.

---

---

[Click This]

---

Éliane was no stranger to familial tension. Not after being intimately involved with the comings and goings of so many distinguished families back in the capital… and after her own time of working for two of them. For things like this, she wisely stayed neutral and didn’t pipe up. Even if Lord Caradoc ignoring her deliberate provocations grated on her slightly. How was a girl to have a little bit of fun if her shameless (non-familial) shit-stirring went ignored!?

Well, she supposed it wasn’t too becoming of a member of the Household Guards and a girl representing Skael, but still.
Thankfully, the good lord’s wife was a far nicer person. Dinner? Why of course, that would be great, ma’am! Thank you very much, ma’am!

Without any protest, Éliane followed them along to dinner. Formality was not an issue for Éliane, as unlikely as it seemed. Once again, she’d gotten used to enough state dinners back home. It just meant that food would be decent—and in a place like this, the coffee would be amazing!

Enjoying a delicious roast, she tilted her head at Caradoc’s question as she carefully set her silverware down on the clearly expensive porcelain.

“Pragmatism,” she answered seriously. “I have no need or want of gold. Maybe a little fame, as that advances my country’s goals, truly. But in the end, the Blight spares no man, and it has come to Skael. I don’t want to see my countrymen, family, and friends devastated as much as any other here in Edren.”

[vietmyke]

Galahad Caradoc

---

Perhaps Galahad should not have been surprised that his party's goals fell in line with one another so much. Granted, the reasonings changed from person to person, but more or less they all agreed that the blight needed stopping. Such was likely the reason they'd been gathered by Leonhart in the first place, but still, it was good they at least agreed on that much. It was about as much as could've been asked of an adventuring party cobbled together in the last minute by the king.

"We are united in our goal, father." Galahad stated plainly, "Reasons differ, but in the end the goal is what matters."

The older Caradoc snorted. "All I see are sellswords and cutthroats. Unorganized. Unfocused."

"Are you upset that I'm not at the head of a column of Edren Knights? Most that fight are not soldiers, father." Galahad reminded him. As it stood, Galahad was one of a handful of Edrenians he recalled seeing at the dinner at Balmung. "You can't expect them all to serve out of a sense of duty."

"And what of your sense of duty, boy? Have you no shame? No sense of honor?" the patriarch's voice began to grow increasingly hostile as dinner went on, spurring Galahad's mother, ever the more even toned to speak up on their behalf, whispering into his ear as she patted his hand in attempt to placate him. It had little effect, and as the spittle increasingly flew from his father's mouth, Galahad found himself growing increasingly agitated.

"I'm the only one in this family doing something about the trouble our people face." Galahad growled harshly. "Our people are starving, our homes are being razed. Yet I'm the only one looking to stop the problem. You sit here on your ivory throne-"

"Insolent welp!" Artorias spat, hands slamming on the table as he stood up. Almost to match him, Galahad too stood up from his seat, electricity from his materia subconsciously crackling in his palm. "You dare to lecture me? You who sits next to, breaking bread with my son- your brother's murderer?

Galahad felt himself grow cold, as though all of the light and life in the room had suddenly disappeared. His eyes turned granting Izayoi a confused glance. "... What..?"

His father snarled at him, pointing an accusatory finger. "Your companion that you so staunchly support butchered your kin, butchered my son. And until you return to me with that Demon's head on a platter, you are no son of mine."

"Out of my sight. Or I'll see you all hang come the morning."

[Psyker Landshark]

Ranbu no Izayoi

Her companions' responses weren't surprising. Each of them had expressed similar sentiments either at Balmung Castle or on the road from it thus far. Galahad's relationship with his father was more unexpected, really. Izayoi's memories of her own parents had all but faded away even in her adolescence, but she did remember warmth. It would be a cold day in the hells before she acknowledged her master as any sort of parental figure, but their bond had been violence without hate. He'd nurtured her into someone strong enough to survive, after all. And Lord Kaien paternal kinship with the young master Hien had been nothing but positive. Disappointed lectures at the most when the boy sought out too much trouble for his own good. So the utter hostility going back and forth across the table right now was foreign to her.

And then Artorias had the temerity to bring her into this. For what it was worth, Izayoi did think long and hard for a moment if she'd ever knowingly killed a Caradoc before. Any man or boy that ever resembled the two noblemen at the table right now. And...she couldn't. There was the very real possiblity that Lord Caradoc was telling the truth, of course. She'd slaughtered so many Edrenians over the course of the war, directly or otherwise, that they had all started to blend together in her eyes after the first few months. Denying the charge outright was impossible. But once she was finished thinking about her own actions, something in the man's words did rankle at Izayoi until she finally realized what it was after some deliberation.

"I will not deny the possibility that I did kill your son. It was war, and I assume he was a legitimate member of your people's armies." Izayoi said after a long moment, after which her expression hardened. "But assuming that to be the case, why do you insist on sending one son to avenge the other, rather than making the attempt yourself? I lost my own child not half a year ago, and I would move heaven and earth to see every man of Valheim butchered at my feet until I find the killer." She really, truly, did not want to discuss this with a former mortal enemy. Even mentioning Suzume to him felt like an admission of defeat. But what he was doing was reprehensible.

"Moreover, you wait until now to bring this up? Do you actually care about your other son's death, or were you hoping that holding this in reserve would shock Galahad into doing your bidding? By all means, I will accept challenge from you, out of respect for another parent outliving their child. I would be a hypocrite otherwise. But face me yourself, rather than sending another son to die. If you will not, then I believe I've had my fill of Edrenian nobility for the evening."

[Click This]

---

The dinner, it seemed, was becoming increasingly hostile and inhospitable. Éliane thought it was an incredible shame, considering that Galahad was a swell enough nobleman, and his mother was rather friendly, as well. More importantly, these people knew how to cook, and they had great coffee! Certainly, it was better stuff than had been available at the capital.

The seasoning on the roast was absolutely chef’s kiss. The gravy, rich, creamy, and top notch, together with the potatoes. The vegetables that accompanied the dishes were also perfectly roasted, and the family certainly knew their wine, too. Of course, Éliane preferred her beloved coffee, but she wasn’t a rube that didn’t know vintages and could still appreciate a good accompaniment.

Her attention continued to turn inward on the meal as the Caradoc patriarch began to start a row after the party had answered his question. She’d answered him in truth and had received sneers in return, but Éliane clamped down on her displeasure. She had no skin in this particular game of familial conflict, nope! Reaching for some fresh bread to soak up some of the gravy and juices that were on her plate, she froze as the elder Caradoc dropped a bomb that made even her pause.

Well, that would likely explain a lot of the hostility, if true. Still, why was Skael getting a big portion of the splashback here? Why the extra hostility, lord cranky host? She and the rest of her countrymen hadn’t participated in that silly war!

Éliane drew her hand back with her bread as Izayoi made her case. It was a very well-reasoned explanation that she nodded along to as she enjoyed the piece of sourdough that she broke off, but she frowned at the quickly dwindling gravy on her plate.

She was quite sure that Lord Caradoc was breaking quite a number of the rules of guests and hospitality by threatening to hang his guests, an existing blood debt or not. She was also quite confident that the king would be rather cross, too. What was a little diplomatic incident over killing some envoys?

And certainly, she wasn’t done enjoying the good food at the table. They’d already left a terrible impression… What was something a little worse? If relations were irreparable at this point, she might as well enjoy as much as she could and hoped the servants didn’t get the current bad vibes and served dessert before they were truly kicked out…

But first. She gestured towards the silver gravy pitcher that was by Lord Caradoc.

“Pardon me. Can you pass the gravy?”

[Ithradine]

Mentions: N/A

---

Arton listened closely to Eliane's response to Lord Caradoc's question, trying to discern if she was being truthful. Fundamental with a side of mischief. It was a intriguing combination and was one more reason to keep his eye one his fellow Skaelan. He was not sure that he would be able to withstand a series of questions if she began to investigate his background. Hearing each one of them unified in their mission was a relief to hear and he could feel the bonds of the party tighten ever so slightly. The retort by Galahad's father stung like a small splash of boiling water on the skin. It hurt for a split-second but it quickly washed over him. This vitriol from Gal's father had him dumbfounded and his fantasy image of a parental figure insulted.

His hunger that he had at the start of the meal extinguished as the conversation between the two Caradocs began to explode. When Galahad expressed reservations about returning home, Arton had figured that there was some sort of tension or bad blood with his family. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply the cracks in their relationship went. The Skaellan rose from his seat after Galahad, ready to spring into action the moment the situation completely broke down. The intensity in his face broke upon hearing Artorias's accusation and his son's reaction. Truth or not the claws of doubt visibly sank into his friend's mind.

The venom left by the echoes of war ran deep in people's blood. Arton was beginning to understand. He could feel a drop of that venom seeping into his veins and for a brief moment his lips parted as it nearly took control of him. Instead, the earlier conversation with Cyth echoed in his mind.

"Lord Caradoc, did you turn us away at the gate? No, you graciously invited our humble party for a shared meal thanks to the wise counsel of Lady Caradoc." Arton turned briefly to the woman in question "A meal that was most welcome after a long journey." His voice adapted to a refined cadence, shedding his countryside mannerisms.

"The moment we sat down at the same table under your roof we became your guests. I can't begin to imagine the scandal that executing four honored guests would bring upon you. I'm truly worried that your legitimacy would be called into question for the killing of your one and only legitimate heir." He twisted the threat with fabricated concern.

"I must humbly concede that you are right. We have taken enough of your generous hospitality and can now set forth properly on our quest now that we have the prestigious Lord Caradoc's blessing. What a beautiful moment of reconciliation between father and son to spread amongst the people." He straightened himself out and took a breath.

Arton was about to leave it at that, but he felt the urge for a final act of insolence "Oh, and if you would be so kind as to pass the gravy to my friend before we leave."

---

Mentions: N/A

---

"~He could not take from the forest, what was never meant to leave...~" The instruments faded into the background as her voice carried the final note softly into the aether. Applause erupted from the familiar audience as her lips closed and curled into a warm smile. Her light green eyes scanned the crowd and noticed a new batch of Valheimians amidst her regulars. No doubt that they were fresh from their homeland and wanted to visit the only theatre in Osprey that welcome their kind. Excellent. Her current sources were getting cold and it had been sometime since she heard any juicy information form Valheim.

Ciradyl bowed and curtsied to the crowd as the large, velvet curtain closed and she shifted from one mask to another. She mimicked a sigh "That was a wonderful performance...all of you. I will be in my changing room if anyone should need me." One act ends and the next begins. That was how it was under the brutal and watchful eye of their Valheim oppressors. Ciradyl exchanged smiles and small-talk with the other members of her troupe as she entered her personal room. The cheer in her eyes dropped with her smile as she gazed a mirrored version of herself and sat in the cushioned chair. She cast a few glances around the room and listened carefully for disturbances in the silence before she turned back to the countertop.

Her hand slid underneath and hummed gently with magic and was rewarded with a faint click as a secret compartment slide open. A small envelope fell into her hands. Ciradyl gave it a look over before she sliced the colorful string that bound it. Her fingers flicked it open and eyes darted from line to line. The moment she finished the last word she held it over a lit candle and watched it be consumed by flames before letting it fall to ashes in a small, gold tray. The king of Edren was finally making a move against the blight, going as far to recruit any abled man and woman for his naive hope of finding a magical solution to his problem. Ciradyl scoffed as she sat back in her chair, long nails tapping thoughtfully against her chin. This, perhaps, was an opportunity. There was not a doubt in her minds that one of the parties of adventurers would make their way into Osprey. They could hopefully be convinced to lend a hand here and there in exhcange for some information and protection. Forces were beginning to make their moves and Ciradyl was fully intent on staying ahead of it all.

[vietmyke]

Galahad Caradoc

---

While there was always an honor guard stationed around the dining, they were never meant to fight- they were more of an Edrenian Lord's set dressing than an actual bodyguard force. That did not however stop them from leveling their ornamental lances towards the party at the perceived threat. Artorias' grimace deepened, seemingly ready to escalate things, even if he himself stood unarmed at the moment. Galahad's mother not accustomed to confrontation or violence, for her part finally realized that things were not nearly as calm as she had anticipated and was white as a sheet.

Galahad stood, staring at his father, his ears registering the quips of his companions. Had he been in a more rational state of mind, he might have reprimanded them for frank words towards one of Edrenian's highest lords, but the shock of his father's words still rang throughout him. His eyes flitted over to Izayoi, his hand subconsciously reaching for a halberd that wasn't there, his mind repeating their words to him as his brain raced. His father was forcing upon him a choice, Galahad realized, or at least his twisted version of one. Would he choose his family, or the world at large. Galahad and his father often butted heads, especially since his brother died, but even this, was not something he could've expected.

"I didn't choose with whom I ride with." Galahad said quietly, "And perhaps I know less about them than I should." Artorias opened his mouth to speak, but Galahad cut him off. "But I am carrying out the direct orders of my king- your king. If there is an issue with that, I suggest you send a messenger."

Galahad turned to look at his companions, though his gaze stayed on Izayoi for a moment longer than the others. "I believe we've overstayed our welcome. Let us be off."

With that, Galahad turned abruptly on his feet, and walked out, pausing as he passed by Izayoi. "I require a word with you. Later."

[Psyker Landshark]

Ranbu no Izayoi

In all honesty, Izayoi was more than surprised that this situation wasn't about to end in violence. For a moment, she found herself disappointed. She wouldn't have blamed Galahad a single whit should he have decided to heed his father's call, but it seemed sense won out in the end.

Still, the fact that the remainder of their party set themselves against Artorias did bring some measure of reassurance to Izayoi. Well, Arton did, at least. Eliane was simply insisting on making a nuisance of herself. Given that Izayoi wasn't the host, nor did she care about offending the aforementioned, it wasn't her problem.

"If you insist." She nodded in response to the dragoon's words, following him as the party made to leave. Her night wasn't quite over yet, if Galahad's insistence was any indication, but at least she wouldn't be spending any more of it in such intolerable company.

___

The lodge was well-furnished and empty, resembling a knight's chapterhouse more than any hunter's home of the sort. Rich tapestries and dragon skull trophies aligned the walls, with plenty of lighting by way of candles and lanterns. By the time Eliane checked her effects, she would find a note on her person that certainly hadn't been there at any point in time she'd noticed before. On inspection, it opened to reveal the Skaelian royal insignia, along with SEED's emblem. It read:

Dame Commander Laruelle,

Destroy this message upon reading its contents. For the duration of your operation, you are under SEED's purview. This will be forwarded to Overseer Baramoux at the earliest possible time. Your orders are as follows:

Every single one of your companions is of interest to the security of the Skaelian crown. If you find actionable intelligence upon any of them that would be of detriment to Skael, it is your duty to report such. Of particular note is the mercenary referred to as Arton Yule. Any discrepancies regarding him are of highest priority to call in.

Following the directive was a detailed set of instructions regarding where to send information by courier and by what channels. At the end, the command to destroy the message upon memorizing it was issued again.

@Click This

___

By the next morning's dawn, Goug waited for the party in the lodge's common room, lifting a mug of coffee with both his hands.

"Top of the morning, kupo! There's staff with breakfast out shortly, then we ought to be on the road again. Just let me know when you want us to set off, kupo."

[vietmyke]

Galahad Caradoc & Ranbu no Izayoi

As the party returned to the lodge, Izayoi shot Galahad a pointed look, inclining her head towards the roof access. When both of them made it to the small terrace atop the building, she turned to face the dragoon, her mien unreadable.

”Well, then?” She asked, her voice quiet. ”What your father said is most likely true. I do not recall killing a Caradoc during the war, but I would not be surprised if it had occurred. Knowing this, I offer you the opportunity to seek vengeance. It would be remiss of me not to.”

One hand fell to rest on her sheathed blade.

”This is the easiest opportunity you will have. Prior to this, I have not so much as touched a sword since the war’s end. I have not been weaker in the field since I was but a girl. If you seek to exact restitution, take it now or face a far greater challenge in the future. I do not intend to stay in this state.”

”Right to it, huh?” Galahad sighed, his grip around the haft of his halberd tensing. Lying didn’t seem to be in Izayoi’s wheelhouse, she was at her weakest, and Galahad was still young and strong. If he truly wished to avenge his brother, now was the time.

”I don’t even know how he died.” Galahad grunted bitterly, ”He was a healer, not a fighter.”

Were they to come to blows, Galahad wasn’t exactly sure how it would pan out. Izayoi was a duelist by nature, suited to killing people in exactly this sort of situation. Galahad, while having seen his fair share of bloodshed during the war, was at a disadvantage in this sort of combat. Dragoons were trained to kill dragons after all, not people, as the large reach of his halberd might have indicated. Still, Galahad wasn’t a stranger to a fight, his mind briefly running through ways he might be able to fight the samurai and come out alive.

”I guess there’s no sense in asking if you have any remorse. It was a war after all, and strictly speaking, we aren’t exactly friends.”

”I have made my feelings on the matter of the war excessively clear.” Izayoi confirmed with a nod. Her thumb slid up against the hilt of her sword. ”I will not apologize for a single death I was responsible for five years ago, but I do carry remorse for the situation. You may not believe that I regret that they were necessary, but the matter was life or death in our case.”

It felt almost freeing to admit that to someone again. Isshin had known of the matter, but Izayoi had never brought it up more than a few times when the guilt grew too much to bear, not wanting to burden her spouse overmuch with her own problems. But either way, one of them wouldn’t be leaving this conversation alive, barring a miracle.

”If the gods dictate that this is my final sentencing for my crimes, better I die by your hand than your father’s. My sole regret in this matter is that he will derive some measure of satisfaction from this.”

There was a moment of quiet, only still wind between the two. Galahad let it stand for a moment longer, the only sound breaking the silence was the creaking of metal as his gauntleted hand clenched at his weapon.

”I wasn’t old enough to understand the politics of the war. Just old enough to fight in it.” Galahad admitted quietly, ”As was my brother. The fool had barely come of age when the war started.”

The great halberd lifted off the floor, Galahad deftly, but slowly turning the weapon in his hands before he brought it down onto the floor with enough force to pierce the stonework and lodge the speartip into the stone.Not exactly turning his back to the Osprean, but turning away, Galahad took a few steps away, leaning against the railing staring at the mountain ridge that separated them from Osprey.

”I’ve come to understand some of the burdens of leadership.” Galahad awgrunted tiredly, ”The needs of my people have to come first.”

”Perhaps I’m a fool for this- but we have to stop this curse first and foremost. To do that, I need strong allies, and frankly, I don’t trust the other parties to get anything worthwhile done.” Galahad said, his tone even, with a hint of bitterness, obviously attempting to calm itself, ”If and when we’ve put a stop to it, and I find the need to avenge my brother, well, hopefully I’ve improved more than you have by the time we’ve finished.”

Ah. Galahad was reasonable. Something she wasn’t. At the very least, Izayoi hadn’t chosen poorly when she’d nominated him to be the party leader two nights ago.

”A part of me is disappointed that this will not be my final judgment.” Izayoi said calmly, removing her hand from the scabbard of her sword. ”Though I suppose I ought to thank you for giving me leave to continue pursuing mine own vengeance. As I said before, so long as our interests align, you have my sword. And I believe we’re both very aware that they’ll likely stay as such.”

She turned towards the direction Galahad was facing, following his gaze. Home wasn’t so far away now. Or what was left of it, at least.

”Still, in the event that our interests are no longer mutual, my offer to you remains open. I trust we can keep our matters professional otherwise?”

”You are, perhaps, worryingly candid about what amounts to a duel to the death.” Galahad commented uneasily, ”But yes, things will remain as they are.

”I have little to live for these days.” Izayoi replied blithely, turning to head back down into the lodge. ”If the gods decree that I am to die, better it be at your hands than Valheim’s, much less your father’s.”

[Ithradine]

Mentions: @Click This

---

Arton hovered around the lobby of the lodge, shield on his back, as he waited for the conversation upstairs to get heated. His growing attachment to the samurai had blinded him initially to the feelings of Galahad. It was on trip over to the lodge where he grasped his new friend's perspective. If Izayoi had been responsible for Furi's or his parents' deaths, he doubt he would be able to let it go. It was a shadow cast over his heart and soul. Eventually, he figured since neither had come crashing through the roof that they had come to some kind of understanding. Arton retreated into the room he had claimed for himself, stripping off most of his armor.

What a stressful and confusing day it had been. The Skaellan settled down on a rug in front of the bed with his legs spread out in a butterfly position. It had been ages since he taken the time to stop and meditate. His hand slipped into a pouch inside his pack, retrieving a small bar of metal and a mallet. His master, Cyth, would strike the metal bar softly to focus his mind on the quite chime it produced. Arton had copied the habit and as he began to let the mallet bounce gently on the mental bar, he could feel the tension in his muscles gradually relax.

He had been out of line at the dinner and let his frustration affect others. A factor of himself that he was not yet ready to reveal let alone confront. The rhythmic chime of the metal flowed in an out through his thoughts, keeping himself centered as he processed his emotions. Despite what Cyth said, Arton was not ready to give up on Furi. To return home and assume his mantle of responsibility would be destroy any hope, however slight, of seeing her again. His eyelids slowly began to increase in weight as the chime slowed and slowed. One final strike sounded off in the room as the effort of blinking had stopped being effective in warding off sleep. Arton climbed into bed with a clearer mind and questions still left to answer.

= = = = = = =

Arton had risen a little early that morning and helped Goug prepare their caravan with whatever assistance he needed. The swordsman approached Eliane with a freshly made cup of black coffee as she made her way into the room, holding a cup of his own but with a dash of milk and a pinch of sugar "Mornin'. Hope I didn't get it wrong." He spoke with a faint smile. Arton hoped the small gesture would help ease the distance he had been putting between them since they were assigned to the same team. It would be childish of him to avoid her like the plague the entire journey.

[Click This]

---

In the end, nobody passed her the gravy, so when they made to leave, Éliane went ahead and took it for herself. It was in a polished, attractively decorated silver pitcher. She took a spoon, also silver, for good measure, because she wasn’t an uncivilized brute that consumed gravy straight from the pitcher. Being in tune with these sorts of things, she knew that the silverware costed a pretty penny, especially with the custom monograms and house heraldry, but she considered it the Asshole Tax.

This was why she preferred dealing with her own countrymen. Far more civilized, even among the commoners.

By the time they made it to the aforementioned lodge, the pitcher of gravy was finished and after cleaning it, set it amongst the trophies that adorned the interior of the building. When she went to her things, though, she found her belongings slightly disturbed. Frowning, she carefully inspected them, and found an unexpected note in her satchel. After reading it with a frown, she discretely approached the fireplace and disposed of it amongst the flames.

It was vaguely amusing that SEED wanted her back, even if temporarily after they’d been so angry with her about the way she conducted her missions… loud. Granted, there wasn’t much discretion needed for what they were asking for, and they were stating the obvious that all of her companions here would be of interest to Skael… but the command to investigate Arton was somewhat surprising.

There was also no mention of the members of her delegation that had fallen in combat. How cold of them.

Éliane sighed. Things in life were far easier when you could bash them in with a sword or shoot them with said sword.

Unexpectedly, the Skaelan man that had interested SEED so had actually approached her the next morning. A little bit suspicious, perhaps, but he also made her coffee, which made up for all of the world’s ills, so she gladly accepted it and returned the greeting. “Good morning. That’s the stuff, thank you…” Taking the cup, she consumed nearly a third of the cup before sighing with satisfaction. “Gods, the coffee here is fantastic.” After taking a few more sips, smaller this time, she glanced over at her countryman. Well, she supposed this an opportunity if anything.

“Yesterday was a mess, and I wasn’t drunk enough to deal with it,” she admitted. “This is why I don’t like leaving our country. Far more civilized…” She paused, and glanced back at Arton. “I was a bit surprised to meet a fellow countryman here, aside from my late companions…”

[Psyker Landshark]

Ranbu no Izayoi

The party set out from Midgar soon after first light. By noon, they reached Edren's mountainous border with Osprey. The main pass, where Izayoi had conducted her last stand five years ago, was occupied by a Valheimian checkpoint. Reinforced with black steel and brimming with soldiers rigorously inspecting what few travelers passed through, it clearly wasn't the best way into Osprey.

Instead, Izayoi led the party towards a side pass up the mountain, just wide enough for the wagon to accompany them. The terrain was steep, but with some effort, they managed to get all their mounts and supplies up the pass and started on the way down halfway through the afternoon.

"Ahead is what remains of the village of Atsu." Izayoi spoke for the first time in nearly an hour, staring down at the ransacked ruins at the foot of the mountain with a solemn gaze. "My home for five years. We will have to stay there for the night. It ought to be near dusk by the time we arrive."

The house that she, Isshin, and Suzume shared had still been standing when she'd left half a year ago. There was no other reasonable solution. Using one of the other home still remaining was unthinkable. She'd known those owners. They'd welcomed her. Kept their peace regarding who she was when they'd inevitably found out. Izayoi would not send the others to squat in those houses.

True to her estimate, dusk was an hour or two away by the time they approached what remained of the village. It hadn't been burned down in the attack, but several houses had been ransacked and debris still littered the street. Thankfully, there were no skeletal remains to be seen. Izayoi had seen to that months ago, spending days after the attack gathering the bodies to be burned away from the village. However, the closer they got, the more familiar the scene before her was.

Black-armored soldiers, milling about the ruins of the village. No more than two dozen in total, but...

"What is this?" Izayoi could barely breathe as her vision filled with red. "They dare return to the scene of the crime?" A feral scream erupted from her mouth as she drew her sword and charged, the first soldier in her way cut down in an instant.

"Ambush!" Came the cry from the Valheimian contingent. "To arms! We're under attack!" A few moved to engage the first intruder in their midst, while the remainder of the soldiers started charging at the rest of the party, the first ranks bearing swords and shields while half a dozen gunmen took aim.

__________________________

Bonus collab

Eight years ago...

“Your tea and sweets, my lady.” The girl laid a cup of bergamot tea and a tray of assorted rice dumplings down in front of Izayoi, and she nodded her thanks before dismissing the server. The Mystel raised the cup to her lips and took a sip, sighing in relief. She’d needed this. The past few months since she’d risen to being Lord Kaien’s captain of the guard had been nothing but hectic in acclimating to the responsibilities of her new position while still finding time to maintain her own skills and conditioning. After all, it wouldn’t do to slip from being one of the best swordsmen in the nation because she eased up on herself now.

Still, she’d gotten enough of a handle on her duties now that there was finally time to schedule a small break for herself. Just for the afternoon, and only to indulge in a guilty pleasure. Another sip of tea, and she set the cup down to start hungrily laying into the first stick of dango on the tray. Rich sweets weren’t something she could bring herself to eat on a regular basis, but once in a blue moon was acceptable.

The door to the teahouse slid open, and Izayoi briefly glanced up to see who was coming through. Hm. Wasn’t that a familiar face…?

Izayoi’s eyes weren’t the only pair to fall upon the young woman as she made her way inside, pale green eyes darting from table to table only to find each one occupied. She tapped her pointer fingers together, looking around the room until her eyes fell upon Izayoi. That is when she began to walk towards the warrior’s table, each step made with purpose and elegance. Whispers began to spread amidst the other patrons such as “It’s her, It’s Cira!” “Kori was right!” “I can’t believe I missed her show today!” and countless other musings.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” Her voice was smooth as silk and hopeful, a faint smile on her glossy lips. Her audience had requested, or rather demanded, an encore which didn’t leave her much time to visit her favorite teahouse in all of Kugane. It was a habit of hers to have tea after every performance, a great way to wind down. Ciradyl was already a known celebrity in the city, with her fame quickly reaching across Osprey and beyond. She had performed for countless nobles and even for the Emperor himself.

Decorum had never been Izayoi’s strong suit, but five years of having it beaten into her head as a retainer proved useful enough as she briefly gazed towards every occupied table before offering the Faye an understanding nod. They’d met briefly but a month ago when she’d performed for Lord Kaien and his retinue, including herself. If anything, Izayoi was more surprised that the woman remembered her at all.

”If you must.” She resisted the urge to groan at having her own private time interrupted. Nevertheless, Izayoi ripped another rice dumpling from the skewer with her teeth and started to chew, washing it down with more tea after. ”Though I hope you aren’t expecting me to cover your bill. My salary isn’t that generous.”

”Thank you.” Ciradyl pulled a chair out for herself and sat down, smoothing out her dress as she shifted slightly to get comfortable. In a strange way, she felt Izayoi was more approachable than most. What might frighten or turn away others served to make her feel more at ease. Ciradyl leaned on the table a bit with one forearm ”And I find that to be a true travesty!” A light giggle escaped her lips as she sat back and raised her hand into the air, looking towards a waitress, for a moment before letting it come to a rest once more. ”I have a good rapport with the owner. They should have my order ready.” The light in her eyes flickers as if a sudden realization hits her and a pout overtakes her smile ”I just hope it isn’t cold already…” Her voice trailed off.

For her part, Izayoi only shrugged as she started in on another sweet. Gods help her, small talk was absolutely not her forte. It wasn’t much of an issue most of the time considering that she’d never had to engage in it much as a retainer, and her subordinates were tolerant enough of her little quirk, thanks in no small part to her strength. Still, she should probably say something at least. Damn her master for being the most taciturn bastard on the continent and barely engaging in any conversation that didn’t have something to do with swordplay for an entire decade.

”For what it’s worth, I have never known this establishment to put out a bad order. And I’ve been here at least once every time I’ve come to the capital.” After all, no other teahouse in Kugane had bergamot tea in stock. An unfortunate shame, that. Especially for her gil purse. Still, it was a miracle that any upscale teahouse in this city stocked something that wasn’t matcha, much less a foreign blend.

Izayoi popped a strawberry daifuku into her mouth. As she chewed slowly, one of her ears twitched slightly upon picking up on a nearby conversation between three portly men at a neighboring table. Merchants, most likely. Samurai and nobility wouldn’t be so crass.

”Isn’t that Lord Kaien’s pet barbarian that Madam Ciradyl is sitting with?”

”Not so loud! Barbarian or not, she’s still samurai. Do you want to give her an excuse to cut you down?”

”Even so, it’s no wonder the eastern daimyo keeps her on. They call her the Wild Dance for a reason. Did you hear about how she mutilated the frontrunner of the last winter court’s tournament? Word was, the duel barely lasted three strokes.”

Izayoi’s tail curled slightly behind her, but she covered her mouth with her teacup, taking another long sip.

Ciradyl nodded enthusiastically. ”I know! I’ve been coming to this place ever since my parents moved here.” While her hearing wasn’t as keen as Izayoi’s, even she picked up on what the first merchant said. How despicable. It didn’t take a long look to know who the merchants were from her father’s connections. Kono Masahisa. Ujitaka Ishino. Yagyuu Morinori. She couldn’t pick up on the rest of what they were saying but reading Izayoi’s expressions she could tell it was nothing flattering. Mint eyes snapped to the group, eyes closed and head slightly tilted as her smile twisted into a menacing grin. Their attention quickly snapped away and she shifted her focus back. Ciradyl sniffed the air a few times and a delighted smile creased her lips ”Is that bergamot?”. The waitress whom she had flagged down earlier brought Ciradyl her order: bergamot tea with a plate of dorayaki. The smell of the former was unmistakable as near-invisible steam waffed off its surface.

Rumors were always floating around in the circles that Ciradyl traversed so she was astutely aware of Izayoi’s reported ‘reputation’. She rarely put much stock in such sources until she could verify them herself. Her lips pursed as she raised the teacup, blowing gently across its surface before taking a slow sip. The Mystrel was proving to be excellent company so far.

Izayoi curled her lips up only a smidge at the sight of her impromptu company cowing the merchants. Not enough to be called a smile, and barely noticeable. She’d heard worse frequently, but Ciradyl saved her the effort, at least. Perhaps this might not be as tiresome as she had feared.

So she decided to indulge Ciradyl’s question, if only to reward her for not being intolerable.

”Indeed. It was the only tea my teacher cared to drink, and therefore the only tea we had available for years on end short of whenever I had the coin or opportunity to purchase otherwise. Needless to say, I had to either develop a taste for it or go thirsty.”

Fond memories, now. Not so much in the moment. That, and reminiscing too long inevitably sent her mind spiraling back to how it all ended. Even now, seven years later, she still thought to herself on occasion that there had to be something she could have done differently.

”He complained about a lack of lemon and sugar often, but I’ve never tried it with those. We stick closely enough with tradition such that I wouldn’t be surprised to be banned for life were I to ask.”

Ciradyl set down the tea cup and traded it for a dorayaki, taking a small bite as she listened closely. The tea was as much a tradition as it was a mere drink. Her paternal grandfather would brew the tea for their visits. The two of them would sit on a balcony, listen to the sounds of the forest while morning air chilled their skin and the tea warmed them back up. ”Would you be opposed to trying some with lemon and sugar? I’m sure I could bring some next time.”

”Next time? You presume a great deal.” Izayoi huffed, finishing her tea. ”I am fortunate to have even one afternoon available each moon. Being a daimyo’s bodyguard captain occupies much and more of my waking hours-”

She was interrupted by the door to the teahouse being suddenly and rudely kicked down, a trio of armed men bearing short blades entering.

“Right, lads. The foreigner Faye. Find her, get out, and we get our payday.”

“Think that’s her in the back, brother! Across from that Mystel.”

Izayoi gave a deep, aggrieved sigh, nonchalantly rising to her feet.

”Can I not have even a single afternoon without being interrupted by buffoons?” She murmured in disgust, starting to stride forward. ”Allow me to take care of this nuisance. I may even leave one breathing for you to question as to who demands your presence so badly.”

Ciradyl slyly grinned at her companion’s response, she would find a way to arrange another teatime. The grin quickly vanished as a trio of ruffians burst through the entrance. The Foreigner Faye. A troubled look washed over Ciradyl before her attention shifted to her new acquaintance ”Izayoi…”. There was not a shred of fear visible in the Mystel. In fact, she spoke as if they were nothing more than bugs to be squashed. Ciradyl was aware of her reputation but to experience it firsthand was another matter. It gave her confidence and the worry that had started to grip her faded quickly.

”Of course…they are…yours to dispose of. Ciradyl for once struggled to find the right words. Asking Izayoi to be safe or wishing her good luck seemed inappropriate and possibly insulting to a warrior of her caliber.

Izayoi nodded to Ciradyl before surging forward, her feet seeming to barely touch the ground, if at all. She slammed into the leader in the middle with a palm strike, knocking him back through the open doorway he just came through. As the patrons began to scream in alarm and the other two ruffians turned to her, mouths agape, the samurai grabbed them by the scruff with one hand each and bodily hurled them out.

The trio groaned as they stood, gripping their wakizashi with scowls.

“Damn it, they didn’t say anything about a bodyguard!”

“At her! She can’t take us by surprise twice!”

Izayoi stepped out of the doorway into the street, her blades still sheathed at her side. In truth, she would have slaughtered them where they stood while still indoors, had there not been a risk of reprisal from the proprietors for causing an unseemly mess. She enjoyed this teahouse enough that she wouldn’t take that chance.

The thugs rushed her, and Izayoi spent several seconds simply ducking and sidestepping their clumsy blows, her face expressing nothing but utter boredom. Nothing but untrained gutter trash, after all. After a few more moments, she reached down towards her sheathed sword. Steel flashed for an instant, and blood sprayed across the road as the two subordinates found themselves decapitated simultaneously.

”Enough. I grow tired of this farce.” Izayoi drawled, taking advantage of the leader’s utter shock to roundhouse kick him into the wall on the other side of the street. ”Answer truthfully, and you may not join your fellows in the hells on this day. Who hired you?”

Ciradyl emerged timidly from the teahouse after Izayoi just in time to see the two henchmen lose their heads. Mint green eyes went wide as she felt the tea and dorayaki churn in her stomach, but managed to steady herself. It was her first time seeing something so grisly and it all happened so fast.

His fearful eyes flashed to Ciradyl for a brief moment, sweat dripping down his face, before locking eyes with the demon in front of him “M-Mizutani Tane!” He quickly chirped, voice trembling as his hands shook. Mizutani Tane. She ran a small merchant empire but she was about legitimate a business woman as a peasant was an heir to the throne. Rumors constantly circulated about shady dealings but nothing concrete was ever discovered.

Ciradyl recognized the name and fear flashed in her eyes. Mizutani was someone her father expressed great disdain for and warned against getting anywhere close to that ‘witch’. There were rumors that she was responsible for an underground human trafficking operation that supplied much of the illicit brothels that dotted the empire. “What are you going to do with him?” She asked, unsuccessfully hiding her newfound anxiety at the thought of being kidnapped and made to ‘disappear’.

Izayoi recognized the name as well, of course. Mizutani’s name had crossed the lips of those of wealth and power enough that even samurai in Kugane knew of her. She narrowed her eyes, glaring down at the thug in front of her.

”His life is forfeit regardless. If I do not kill him, his employer will. And the message will be more effective this way.” Her katana completed the trifecta as it lopped the last attempted kidnapper’s head off, Izayoi catching the decapitated limb by the hair on its way down. She started to tie it to her sash, looking back towards Ciradyl.

”I must apologize. Were I able to slay Mizutani without consequence, I would. But my sword is not my own. Should I act without reserve, the repercussions would fall onto my lord. Even a samurai cannot slaughter a merchant of that bitch’s reputation and influence without reprisal, no matter how odious her manner is.” Izayoi bowed her head towards the Faye in apology.

”Regardless, she has overstepped this time, if only by a miniscule degree. I will send this to her,” A gesture towards the severed head. ”And we will hope that the message sinks in. If she escalates…I will have my excuse to be rid of her.”

A part of Ciradyl had been hopeful Izayoi would indeed spare the last man’s life. That perhaps this brush with death would result in him turning his life around. Instead the samurai would give her the first lesson in the brutal reality of the world. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the head that now resided on Izayoi’s sash. The sight would surely burn its way into her dreams that night.

“No, no. If not for you…” The thought was quickly pushed out of her head and she bowed in reply “Thank you for protecting me, even if it ruined your afternoon.” She said gratefully. Fate had surely intervened by placing them together today. Her stomach was still queasy from the viscera but it was the least of her worries. “There are more ways than one to-” She took a small gulp “-gut a fish, as my father would say.” and with that quip she understood that any flicker of appetite she may have had left was gone.

Ciradyl glanced back at the teahouse “If you don’t mind, I’ll take care of your bill. It’s the least I can do.” Mint eyes looked back at Izayoi, the smile she had approached the Mystrel with returned. ”It was an exciting first outing if nothing else.”

Mizutani’s criminal empire slowly began to crumble after this incident and appeared to be on the verge of collapse when the war began. The noose that had been tightening around her neck loosened and Mizutani regained her power in the shadows. The operation to kidnap Ciradyl was abandoned in lieu of a score to settle. When the Valheimians invaded, Mizutani and her resources were quick to bend the knee and was rewarded with status greater than ever before. She would never forget, however, the person who had cost her so dearly.

[Click This]

---

The conversation with Arton the previous evening had been interesting.

Despite the fact, as they moved onwards into hostile territory, Éliane put the details to the back of her mind. Each step they took now was unfamiliar land to her. Despite her experience, she had never been this far away from Skael, and the fact that Osprey was swarming with Valheimian occupiers meant that she had to be on her guard. After somewhat extended detour through the mountains to avoid the black-clad enemy soldiers, Éliane arrived with the others at the outskirts of what Izayoi said had been her former home.

Éliane had little experience with war. She dealt with her fare share of violence, and even won a full battle in the capital, but that had simply been a skirmish compared to the dual invasions that had happened in Izayoi’s home country. The sight of the ruined village and its houses was a sobering sight. The Skaelan woman remained silent as they approached, but she remained cautious, keeping a hand on the sword that rested at her hip.

It was a precaution that paid off, as Izayoi wasn’t the only one to quickly notice the Valheimian presence. The swordsman charging off solo in response was unexpected… but it wasn’t like Éliane wouldn’t have done something similar in normal circumstances. She approved! Grinning at the anticipation of imminent action and the satisfaction of seeing what had happened to this place further avenged, she took her hand off her sword and drew her gunblade. Éliane joined in Izayoi in charging the enemy. Taking aim, she shot at the nearest soldier, keeping close to the swordswoman as she kept pace with her. Although Éliane was all for charging into the fray, she preferred at least a little bit of pre-planning, but this was fine—she just hoped that the others got the memo to watch their backs as the two of them led the vanguard in this ambush.

“To us. Before they regroup!” she yelled, before firing again at a soldier that was getting close to Izayoi. Covering the last few meters, Éliane finally entered melee combat as she parried the first swordsman that approached her with a loud clang as their blades met.